Catch Me
by amightypenguin
Summary: A game of cat and mouse, though who is the cat, and who is the mouse? A new inhabitant of Port Royal is the cause of love, jealousy, spite, and mud stains. OFC, AU after COTBP.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is a fun story! Well, at least I think so. The updates are going to be sporadic, but I promise to finish it. I hate when people start their stories and let them die. PS. Norringon rocks my socks!_

* * *

Chapter One

"James!"

Commodore James Norrington closed his eyes in resignation before plastering a fake smile in place and turning to the woman who had, quite efficiently, ripped his heart out.

"Miss Swann," he murmured, nodding his head.

Elizabeth Swann, previously beautiful, was now gorgeous in soon-to-be-wedded bliss. Her skin, much too brown for fashionable society, seemed to glow and her chocolaty eyes glimmered with her grin. The sight made James's fake smile falter.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" she exclaimed, reaching for his arm and giving it a friendly squeeze. He endured it and once her hand removed itself, he stepped out of her reach in case she went to touch him again. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand it.

"I cannot stay long, but I just wanted to give my best wishes to the happy couple," he said, forcing his smile back into place. Unfortunately, his facial muscles weren't working properly and he was sure he gave more of a grimace than anything else.

"I shall grab Will, then," she said, turning away to look through the crowd of people stuffed into Governor Swann's elegant drawing room.

_No, don't grab Will_, James thought frantically. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to be cordial to the young blacksmith.

He put on an outward appearance of being happy for the two, Elizabeth and Turner, but he was most certainly not. Both his heart and his pride had suffered a terrible blow when Elizabeth had chosen Turner over him. He had loved her, still did as a matter of fact, and watching the two of them smiling, laughing, hugging, kissing, was enough to make his already-low mood worsen.

It should have been him. He should be the one sharing private smiles with Elizabeth, touching her hand when he thought no one was looking, and whispering secrets in her ear.

Elizabeth waved frantically and James almost groaned out loud when he saw Turner approaching. James's plan had been to get in, drop off his gift (a truly forgettable globe paperweight), maybe say 'hello' to Swann, and get out again. He hadn't planned on talking to Elizabeth and certainly hadn't counted on talking to Turner.

"Commodore," Turner said with a definite air of frigidity while reaching for Elizabeth's arm. Like James could really steal her out from under Turner's nose. Like James could steal her at all.

"Turner," James replied with the same amount of ice.

Elizabeth, oblivious to the tension around her, began to chatter about wedding plans. It felt like another twist of the knife already embedded in James's chest. He looked heavenward, praying for patience, and then looked about the room. He resolutely Did Not Look at Elizabeth or Turner, though the crowd in the room was no better a view. They seemed to know exactly what he was feeling and it angered and embarrassed him with every pitying look he received.

He was about to make some excuse so that he could get away as quickly as possible when there was a sudden stirring in the room. A new kind of tension mounted around him, one of obvious interest, toward the doors leading into the drawing room. Elizabeth stopped in the middle of a sentence and followed the gazes to the end of the room and said, "Oh good. They're here."

James turned to see what everyone was looking at and felt the breath in his lungs rush out through his parted lips. His ears began to ring and the murmurs and whispers about the room seemed to vanish.

A girl stood in the doorway with two people who were obviously her parents, but James didn't notice them. His focus was completely on the girl, who had to be the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on. She even surpassed Elizabeth, which James had thought was not possible.

She was pale, the fashionable thing for women, and her dark hair was swept up into an elegant knot at the top of her head, leaving her long neck bare. Her blue eyes skimmed over the crowd in apparent disinterest. Her face was perfection; high cheekbones, a mouth with a full lower lip, a pert nose, and arched eyebrows of the same chestnut color as her hair.

She was quite thin and her collarbones stuck out a bit, though it just added to her over-all elegance. Governor Swann made his way to them and jovially shook the father's hand. The girl drew back a bit and looked at the floor demurely.

"Who is she?" James breathed.

Elizabeth's voice seemed very far away as she answered, "Lord and Lady Warrick, with their daughter Cassandra. They've moved over from England for the girl's health. She didn't do well with the English climate and was told she'd fare better in warmer weather."

James nodded absently and continued to watch her as she was introduced to the many people who had begun to swarm around the new arrivals. To James's amusement, most were young men. She nodded to each, giving a few a delicate curtsey. She never spoke, however. She was completely reserved, the opposite of how most young women of Port Royal behaved. They were more likely to be a bit louder, less inhibited than they would have been in England, for they could get away with it here in the Caribbean.

"She's a bit younger than me," Elizabeth was saying. "But we used to play together before I moved here myself. She always was a sickly thing, however."

"It appears the Caribbean air is agreeing with her," James said. Elizabeth looked at him sharply and he merely smiled politely.

Cassandra was terribly uncomfortable. Her corset was too tight and her hair had too many pins, most of which had been jabbed into her scull by her evil new maid; a sinfully perky young girl by the name of Annie.

Cassie surreptitiously shifted in her seat, trying to loosen the dreaded corset, but to no avail.

Her discomfort was not just from her physical ailments. In England, she'd never really left her house. Not for any sort of ball, musical, party, or even tea. She'd always been too ill. So she'd never been around people other than her servants and her family.

Now, however, she was surrounded by new people who seemed to enjoy staring at her.

"Do I have something on my face?" she whispered to her mother. Margaret Warrick, mother extraordinaire and Cassie's best friend, looked at her quickly and did an inventory from the top of her head down to her feet, hidden under her skirts.

"No dear," Margaret replied. "Why do you ask?"

"People keep staring at me as if I have some sort of exotic growth on my face," Cassie murmured. Margaret smirked, but said nothing further.

The afternoon crawled on, and Cassie didn't move from her spot. Not because she was being deliberately unsocial, but because she tired easily if she moved around too much. Especially now, she thought grumpily, that she was wearing a corset. Who thought of such a device anyway?

A man, she decided as she shifted again. Only a man could come up with something so irritating because a woman would never willing devise such a garment for herself.

A tantalizing breeze came from the open doorway leading to the gardens and Cassie nearly groaned. The warm air from the drawing room was making it hard for her to breathe. She could feel her heart pounding uncomfortably and knew that she would need fresh air soon.

"I'm going to take a turn about the garden," she murmured to her mother.

"Not too long, dear," Margaret said worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Cassie said with a grin. "Just need fresh air."

Margaret nodded to show she understood and Cassie slipped out onto the terrace. The sun was beginning to set. She'd been there for hours and had yet to see Elizabeth. She supposed that was to be expected, as it was a party specifically for her childhood friend.

_Still_, thought Cassie irritably. _The woman could have at least said hello_.

Cassie's heart began to pound a bit harder and she felt a touch of anxiety. She looked around and saw that she was not the only person out on the terrace and so moved to the stairs that lead down to the maze-like garden. Perhaps if she could find a secluded spot, she could loosen her corset a bit and get a real lungful of air.

She slipped into an opening in the maze and hurried along. All she needed was a private area. Her lungs began to burn and she couldn't stop the convulsive coughs that erupted from her mouth.

_This will have to do,_ she thought frantically. She couldn't inhale enough air. Her head was getting light on her shoulders.

_Buttons, where are the buttons?_

She tugged at the front of her dress in vain. She coughed harder to the point where she couldn't breathe at all. Her lungs felt like they were being stabbed, her vision wavered and her legs gave out from under her, sending her roughly to her knees. She didn't have the breath to cry out in pain.

_Mama…_

Suddenly she felt hands at her back, tugging at her dress.

_No…Stop, please…_ But she didn't have the air to protest.

Her dress gaped open and fell down her shoulders. Now someone was ripping at her corset stays and when they gave, she gasped in a breath.

"Slowly, now," a deep voice said from nearby. "Let your body get the air it needs."

She coughed again, her whole body spasming, and she fell forward onto her hands. The corset fell away, there was nothing obstructing her lungs, but she still couldn't breathe. She clawed frantically at the grass, urged her screaming lungs to _work_!

Strong arms wrapped around her and the next thing her bewildered mind knew, she was being held and someone was rubbing soothing circles into her back. A large hand pressed her head into a hard, broad shoulder and that deep voice was whispering soothing words into her ear.

"Breathe slowly," he murmured. "Slowly out, slowly in. Come now, that's it."

Her body continued to shake and she coughed a little, though it was, miraculously, getting better. As her disorientation eased and she could breathe freely, she came to the realization that a strange man was holding her while her dressed was practically falling off. Not only that, he was stroking her back.

With a flurry of movement, she pushed herself from his lap and fell gracelessly onto her rump before scrambling backward. He reached for her and she lurched back further to get away, landing in the tall hedges lining the path. She jerked away, not before her hair caught, and ended up back on her rear.

"Are you alright?"

She looked up at the man who had held and almost sighed with relief. A naval man. She recognized the uniform. Not to mention the wig. He had concerned green eyes and his lips were pursed.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning toward her.

"Quite sure, thank you," she said. "Just a coughing fit, nothing too serious."

He quirked an eyebrow. Feeling more embarrassed than she had in her entire life, she gingerly moved to her feet and pulled half-heartedly on her dress.

"Will you be needing this?"

He held the corset, which looked oddly small in his large hand, and she shook her head vehemently.

"I'm never wearing that thing again," she muttered darkly. He had an odd expression on his face, as though he were trying not to laugh, and tossed the corset aside.

"Do you need help getting…buttoned?" he asked politely. Cursing herself for flushing red, she nodded. As the buttons were in the back, she wouldn't be able to do it herself.

She turned her back to him and flushed harder. The first time that a man was to see her practically half-naked, and it had to be with a complete stranger because of a coughing fit.

He worked quickly, deftly buttoning her up without a word.

"Will you be needing any help back to the party?" he asked solicitously.

"I can find the way, thank you," she said, reaching up to make sure her hair was semi-presentable.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I'd hate it if you got lost or had another fit."

She shot him a hot look and replied, "Thank you, really, but I'm not a child. I'll be fine. And I trust that this…episode…will not be mentioned again?"

He was looking more and more amused as the situation progressed.

"I promise I shall not say a word," he said with a quirk of his lips.

"This is not amusing," she said irritably.

"No, no not a bit," he replied, though his slow smile was saying otherwise.

"Oh, get out of my way," she huffed and he generously, or so he probably thought, stepped aside and she made her way back.

Arrogant male! Who was he, anyway? Who did he think he was to treat her like some unfortunate child?

James watched as Cassandra Warrick stormed away and couldn't suppress his grin. She'd probably be embarrassed when she got back to the party, for the leaves in her hair were more than a little obvious.

He hadn't planned on walking through the maze but he'd heard her coughs and knew something wasn't right. Thank God he'd been there when he had, otherwise she might not have been able to get her breath back.

He'd been watching her throughout the afternoon. A face like that, how could he look away? He seen her slip through the doors to the outside and had followed, though she'd been gone by the time he'd gotten to the terrace. On a whim, he'd gone out into the gardens.

It had been terrifying to come across her on her knees and gasping for breath.

Now she was fine, and more than a little miffed, but he couldn't help the fact that seeing her red-faced and petulant had amused him. She had such an icy demeanor inside the party, and to see that shattered had rather endeared her to him for a bit. That is, until she had stormed away.

No, she was exactly like the rest of the females of Port Royal. With the exception of Elizabeth, who was beyond the pale. No one, not even the ethereally beautiful Cassandra Warrick, came close to the perfection of Elizabeth Swann.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note: Sorry this didn't get here sooner. My muse is being a bitch and won't just sit and help me. Plus I'm working on three other stories, so my brain is like BLAAAHHHH! So, YAY FOR CHAPTER TWO! More to come. I promise._

* * *

Her parlor was overrun with males. Every few minutes, another arrived with a calling card at her front door. She had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation.

"Truly dreadful weather today, eh?" one of the young men asked.

Cassie decided that it probably wasn't the most fashionable thing to say that she loved thunderstorms.

"Erm, yes," she replied instead.

Questions were being fired at her from every direction, they kept pushing flowers and candies into her hands, and all seemed to want to talk at once. Finally she gave up talking at all and allowed them all to speak over each other.

Was this what courting was like? She never really got to have a season in England. She was going to have her first the year before, when she was eighteen, but she couldn't. Every day, alone in bed with nothing but her own thoughts for company, she had wondered what it would be like to be courted.

Would he give her poems and secret kisses? Would he sweep her across the dance floor as if they'd been made to dance together? Would he be tall? Short? Blond? Brunette? Humorous? Serious? Would he wear spectacles?

Now she wanted to be alone. These men were loud, boisterous, and more intent on overshadowing each other than really paying her any attention.

She clutched her bouquets of varied flowers (though none were her favorite) and bit her lips. There were many other things she could be doing with her time at the moment. Like watch the thunderstorm.

Soon her mother, who had been out at the milliner's, returned home and came to Cassie's rescue, urging the young men home before the storm worsened.

She stood in her entryway next to her mother and tried to muster up a smile as the many young men sent her their farewells, blew her kisses, winks, and promises to call again. When the door finally closed, leaving the foyer oddly silent, she gave her mother a bewildered stare.

"Well that was horrible," she said finally.

"Why is that?" Margaret asked, taking her daughter by the elbow and leading her through the house to the balcony.

"Because I hardly spoke," Cassie replied. "They were all talking, trying to be heard, and I had no idea what was going on. I didn't know what to say, how to act. It was painful the entire time."

Thunder rumbled through the air, stalling her mother's reply. The floor shook slightly and the family dog, Saki, came barreling down the hall and skidded to a halt at Cassie's feet. Saki hated storms, and this one promised to be truly magnificent.

"It's okay, Saki," Cassie murmured, hunkering down next to the mutt. They weren't really sure what breed Saki was. He showed up on their property two years ago as a malnourished puppy and Cassie had begged to keep him. That tiny pup had grown into a dog the size of a small pony that doted completely on Cassie.

Saki whined and hid his face in her skirts.

"I'm sure the courting process will improve, darling," Margaret said, bringing back the conversation. "They're all enamored of you for your appearance alone right now. I'm sure your personality will scare enough away to dwindle the list quite a bit."

Cassie squealed a laugh and smacked her mother's knee.

"What is all this?" a voice murmured from the door to the study. Cassie looked up into the black eyes of her father and smiled.

"Suitors," she said importantly. "I have many, it seems."

Beauregard Warrick, Earl of Warrick, raised a dark eyebrow and said nothing.

"Apparently your daughter has become very popular, my lord," Margaret said with a smile. Cassie stood back up to her full height, seven full inches shorter than her father, and gave him a shy grin.

"How could she not?" he said with a smile, walking over wrapping an arm around her. "Look at that face. Of course she's popular."

The three of them moved out onto the covered balcony. Cassie lounged out on the small sofa and her mother sat at her feet. They watched silently as the clouds in the sky darkened and lightning streaked down from the heavens.

"It's much more brutal here than back home," Beauregard said. "Storms in England never looked like this."

"I prefer it," Cassie said, reaching a hand out to the cowering Saki. "Much more interesting."

There was another flash of lightning, followed by a boom of thunder that sounded like cannon-fire. Saki, in a move of pure terror, jumped onto the sofa and buried his face in Cassie's side.

"Oh, darling, you'll get fur all over your dress!" Margaret exclaimed. "Down, Saki!"

"No! It's alright," Cassie said hurriedly. "He's just scared." She wrapped her arms around the mud-colored dog and held him tightly.

"You've completely spoiled him," Beauregard said disapprovingly.

Cassie gave him a toothy grin. Beauregard snorted and moved to his wife's side. The two were a striking pair. Both had dark hair, though Margaret had blue eyes where Beauregard's were black. She was pale where he was tan. Both were uncommonly attractive, though Beauregard didn't have the cheerful disposition of her mother. He was quite daunting, really, to everyone other than his wife and daughter. When he looked at Cassie, there was adoration and pride. When he looked at Margaret, like he was doing now, there was devotion and love.

Cassie sighed to herself and looked back out to the sea. She wished desperately for the kind of love her parents shared, though she knew it was rare. Most marriages were decided entirely upon money and social standing. Margaret and Beauregard had told her repeatedly that she didn't need to marry until she had found the right one for her, but Cassie was something of a realist. She knew that she wouldn't find someone perfect. The best she could hope for was someone she could count as a friend.

There was another flash of lighting, more thunder, and then it began to rain. Not the drizzling, damp rain of England. This was a downpour that left everything completely soaked. In the protection of their covered balcony, the Warricks stayed safe and dry, though Saki was making noises like he was being tortured.

"Saki," Cassie murmured. The dog raised his huge head and stared at her with panicked brown eyes. "I've got you. You're safe with me."

Saki whined and laid his head on her stomach, though he seemed marginally calmer.

"Tell me about these suitors, daughter," Beauregard said suddenly. "Anyone I have to shoot yet?"

Margaret smacked him in his stomach and Cassie snorted. "Hardly," she replied. "They were all too focused on each other and how to stand out that they were all loud, obnoxious, and ignored me completely. Though, I did receive some lovely flowers."

"If any of them lay a single hand on you, I shoot them," Beauregard said dangerously.

"Only after I break said hand," Cassie replied.

Beauregard smiled and nodded. "That's my girl."

They fell into a comfortable silence and watched the rain. Cassie had not told them about her encounter in the garden with the stranger and her corset. She decided it wouldn't have been wise, not with her over-protective father. The strange man had only been there to help and had not made any untoward advances, but Cassie was sure her father would not have heard anything beyond 'he pulled my corset off and then rubbed my back.'

She had no idea who that man had been. They'd left shortly after she'd returned to the drawing room and she hadn't made any enquiries. She rather hoped she never saw that man again.

James loved thunderstorms. Especially when he had finished all his work for the day and he could sit in his chair, look out the window, and enjoy.

The fort had been oddly quiet all day. Everyone had been in preparation for the oncoming storm, hard to miss by its roiling black clouds, and now it was here.

With every rumble and crash, James felt better. The storm matched his mood perfectly. He'd just received the invitation to the Swann – Turner wedding. He knew he'd be getting one, but he had almost hoped that he wouldn't. That maybe Turner would put his foot down and James wouldn't have to go.

Nope.

A young boy came into the office carrying the day's mail. He was an oddly silent young thing. Much too serious for a boy his age, though he worked hard.

"Mail for ye, sir," he mumbled, stacking the letters on James's desk.

"Thank you, Trevor," James replied. The boy grunted and left, though Gillette waltzed in before the door could be closed.

"Afternoon, Commodore," he said cheerfully. The man was much too merry.

"May I help you with something?" James asked mildly.

"Oddly quiet today, don't you think? Not much to do," Gillette remarked idly, leaning onto the edge of James's desk.

James, still seated in his chair, locked his gaze on the point where Gillette's hip met his desk long enough that Gillette got the message and stood up, thereby removing his person from James's personal space.

"Consider it the calm before the storm," James replied just as thunder rumbled from above and then added, "So to speak."

Gillette smirked and wandered over to the window as James sifted through his mail. He had yet another invitation for a musicale evening from a family with an eligible daughter.

"Why do I keep getting invitations for idiotic parties?" James demanded.

"Because you keep going to them," Gillette replied.

"It's rude not to," James said, tossing the invitation back onto his desk.

"Then…you either keep going to them, or get married yourself," Gillette said. "Then, they have no more reason to invite you at all. I, however, enjoy my invitations."

"You just like having groups of young women clawing for you," James muttered.

"And that's a bad thing because…? I'm beginning to think you aren't human."

James stood up from his desk and wandered over to stand by the lieutenant at the window.

"You think I am not human because I prefer my own space?" James asked.

"No," Gillette replied. "I think you're not human because you hardly pay any attention to any female. You hardly pay attention to people in general. I can't believe this conversation has lasted this long."

James smiled and didn't say anything. They stood in quiet companionship beside the window and watched the storm worsen.

"Are you going to this musicale this evening?" James asked finally.

"Indeed," Gillette replied. "The daughter, one Miss Arianna Worthington, seems to like me exceedingly."

James snorted. Arianna Worthington liked all males exceedingly.

"I suppose I shall be seeing you there," James said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't sound so excited, Commodore," Gillette teased. "I'm not sure how many others will make it in this weather, however."

"I wouldn't be that blessed," James growled.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

To James' irritation, the weather did not stop many people from attending the Worthington musicale. The thunder and lightning had ceased, but the rain was still going strong. Outside the Worthington manor, groups of people dashed from their carriages to the front door, holding shirts above ankles and hats firmly to heads.

James had only been there for a quarter of an hour before he realized his mistake in accepting the invitation. Arianna Worthington, a young woman who was in her fifth year out and had no offers for marriage, could not play any musical instrument, or even sing. James, having never attended one of these evenings before, did not realize this until the unfortunate girl went to the piano and started banging on the keys.

His patience and civility could only go so far.

"Governor, please tell why these evenings are so popular?" James asked Governor Swann in a whisper. "If she's always been this appalling, why do so many people come?"

Governor Swann lifted his right hand, which held a glass of amber liquid. "Her father has the finest wine cellar in all of Port Royal."

As James looked around, he realized just how many people were in fact drinking alcoholic beverages. As the night progressed and Arianna's playing did not cease, more wine vanished at a greater speed.

He hadn't been surprised to see Elizabeth attend, as she was society's darling. He had not, however, counted on Turner being there. Now that he was engaged to Miss Swann it appeared that he would be roaming the same social circles as James.

James decided that he was not going to be accepting as many invitations after this night.

He was on the verge of giving up his rule about drinking alcohol in public when the newest arrivals caught his eye. It was the Warricks. Again, Cassandra looked beautiful in her gown of pale pink. He doubted she could look anything less than gorgeous at any given moment.

Her mother was greeting everyone jovially while she and her father hung back, remaining silent. He had a protective hand on her elbow and though she looked outwardly calm and reserved, James could see her hands were tightly gripping each other. Was she nervous?

"Have you met the Warricks, Commodore?" Swann asked.

James hesitated before replying, "No. Not officially."

"Come on, then," the Governor said, leading him through the throng that had gathered around the new family.

As James got nearer, he noticed how alike the father and daughter were. Neither seemed to be too excited about being in public and both had a slightly snobbish look to them, with their noses up in the air and their lips pursed. Only the mother looked at all friendly.

"Lady Warrick? Lord Warrick?" Governor Swann said loudly, gathering their attention. "This is Commodore James Norrington, of the British Royal Navy. Commodore, Lord and Lady Warrick."

He bowed to them, as was the standard, and Warrick nodded his head while his wife curtseyed. He and Lord Warrick were of a height, though Warrick was quite a bit more intimidating with his black eyes and frowning disposition. James got the distinct impression that this was not a man to trifle with.

Margaret Warrick, however, smiled warmly and gestured her daughter over. James almost laughed out loud when he saw comprehension dawn on Cassandra's face. Her already pale face drained of what little color it had and her blue eyes widened. She immediately looked away and lowered herself into a regal curtsey, refusing to look at him.

"Commodore, this is my daughter, Cassandra," Margaret said jovially.

She glanced back up at him and he smirked at her as he bowed, which obviously did not amuse her. She gave him an icy look of disdain and pursed her lips, clearly going to refuse conversation with him. Instead of trying to pull her into speech, like she obviously thought he was going to, he turned back to her mother and ignored the daughter completely.

"How are you enjoying Port Royal so far, my lady?" he asked.

"It's lovely," Lady Warrick replied. "So much more to see and feel here than in England. I can't say I miss the weather."

James smiled and replied, "But we are in the middle of a thunderstorm."

"There are thunderstorms and there are thunder-battles, Commodore," she said with a grin. "This is the latter and it is so much more fun."

"I tend to agree, my lady," he said. "Nothing quite like a storm in the Caribbean."

"Our dog, however, disagrees with us," Lady Warrick said. "He was hiding under Cassie's chair in the parlor when we left, isn't that right dear?"

Cassandra, apparently having no alternative, spoke. "Saki doesn't exactly have the heart of a lion, Mama."

"Saki?" James asked, surprised.

"Father named him," Cassandra replied, still not looking at him and instead glancing about the room. "That was the deal. I could keep the puppy, but only if Father could name him."

"And I named him after one of my favorite drinks from the East," Lord Warrick said, eyeing James intently.

"I'm familiar with it," James said shortly. "Where did this dog come from?"

"He showed up in our garden one day," Lady Warrick replied. "Before we could think of what to do with him, Cassie saw him and begged to keep him. Beauregard, loving his daughter madly, let her."

Lord Warrick sent his daughter a warm smile before looking back at James. The warmth in his face evaporated and he became the protective father once more.

"I have a fondness for dogs," James said. "What type of breed is he?"

Cassandra shrugged. "We have no idea. He's a mixed breed of mess and mayhem."

James smiled.

"Do you have any dogs, Commodore?" Lady Warrick asked.

"No, not anymore," James replied. "I'm never home enough to give them the attention they deserve."

"What would be your preferred breed if you were to have one?"

"I'm not sure," James replied thoughtfully. "A large breed, though I think I'd rather not have a mixture of mess and mayhem."

Everyone chuckled with the exception of Cassandra. Indeed, she looked a little offended.

"Saki is the best pet anyone could hope for," she said reprovingly. "He's loyal, gentle, and quite affectionate."

"No doubt, Miss Warrick," James replied blandly. "But you did just imply that he was a handful by giving him the titles of 'mess' and 'mayhem', two things I would rather do without."

"I'm sure you'd like each of your days to be the same, with no variety or change," Miss Warrick said contemplatively.

James nodded slowly. "In a way, yes. I prefer things to be as un-chaotic as they can."

"Interesting, then, that you should join the Royal Navy, where they tend to blow things up and hang people," Miss Warrick replied in mock-sweetness.

"Cassandra!" Lady Warrick hissed. Lord Warrick, however, just raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Indeed, Miss Warrick," James replied through clenched teeth, forcing himself not to rise to her bait. "Though, I've found that those two past-times can be oddly relaxing when the things you blow up and the people you hang deserve it."

"Like pirates, right James?" Governor Swann said with a chuckle. Miss Warrick exchanged a quick, furtive look with her father which went unnoticed by all except James.

"Quite so, Governor," he replied automatically.

"I think I would like a glass of punch," Cassandra said suddenly.

"Allow me to accompany you," James said solicitously, gesturing his arm grandly in the direction of the refreshment table.

Cassandra shot him a dark look but couldn't say anything as Lady Warrick was pushing her along giving her a quelling stare. Once they were out of earshot of her parents, Cassandra hissed, "I could have found it by myself, you know."

"I couldn't risk the chance of you fainting on the way," James replied spitefully.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," she snapped. "I'm fine, thank you. Go back to doing whatever it was you were doing before you decided to bother me and my family."

"I'd rather do as I had promised and accompany you to the table," James replied. "I fear your father might do be bodily harm if I don't do as I say I would."

"He's more likely to shoot you just for being near me," Cassandra said with a sweet smile. "So by all means, accompany me."

The man irritated her. There was no specific reason for it, but Commodore James Norrington irritated her to no end.

Perhaps it was that snobbish little purse to his lips.

Or maybe it was the complete lack of civil humor in his eyes.

Or even how he seemed to enjoy baiting her.

Whatever it was, she didn't like it and she wanted him to leave her alone. He took her to the refreshment table and had a glass of lemonade himself, though did not speak again.

Good. She didn't want to speak to him.

"Cassie?"

Cassie turned around and finally saw Elizabeth Swann for the first time in years.

"Lizzy!" she exclaimed happily.

Elizabeth bounded over and grabbed her hands. "I was so upset that I did get to speak with you at the engagement party!"

"Oh, you were busy," Cassie replied dismissively. "I understand completely. Now I must meet this William Turner person."

"He's around here somewhere," Elizabeth said with a smile. "You'll meet him at some point. Tell me, how are you enjoying the Caribbean?"

"It's breathtaking," Cassie said.

"Quite literally," Norrington muttered from next to her. She glared at him but remained silent.

"Commodore! I didn't see you there," she said with a weak smile. Cassie raised her eyebrows. The man was a giant. How could she a missed him?

"Quite understandable, Miss Swann," he replied. "Now if you'll excuse me, I see someone I know."

He left with dignity, though it was unmistakable that he was leaving with haste. Elizabeth let out a low breath and gave Cassie a guilty look.

"What's wrong, my friend?" Cassie asked.

"I fear I shall never feel comfortable around him again," Elizabeth whispered.

"Why is that?"

"I was engaged to him," Elizabeth replied. Cassie felt her eyes just about bug out of her head. "A few months ago there was a great to-do; I'll tell you about it later. Now come, you must meet Will."

Elizabeth steered her about the room, nudging people out of the way. Elizabeth had been engaged to the Commodore? Cassie tried to picture them together and found that would have made a striking couple. As for the 'great to-do', Cassie already knew about that. She was quite sure everyone knew that Elizabeth had been kidnapped by pirates. Practically the entire Royal Navy had been sent out to find her. Why would that cause her to go to another man?

"Cassie, this is Will Turner," Elizabeth said suddenly, pulling Cassie out of her reverie.

Cassie looked up into the deep brown eyes of a very attractive young man. Immediately, she could see why he would have caught Elizabeth's eye. He was very handsome, in a rugged kind of way, and had a touch of shyness about him that made him endearing.

"Will, this is my childhood friend, Cassandra Warrick, daughter of the Earl of Warrick," Elizabeth said.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said with a quiet smile. Yes, he was very attractive.

"Indeed," Cassie replied. "I've heard quite a bit about you, and now I see you at last."

"Elizabeth has told me quite a bit about you as well, along with all the talk about you in town," Turner replied.

Cassie blanched. "Talk? About me?"

Turner gave her a reassuring smile, which did little to reassure her, and said, "You are all anyone will talk about, Miss Warrick. All I've heard is how beautiful you are, how elegant, and other such things. I see now they are quite true."

Cassie smiled at the compliment, but Elizabeth did not seem amused. She sidled up to Turner and practically wrapped herself around his arm, as though to stake her claim on him.

"Erm, thank you, Mr. Turner," Cassie said. "I had no idea I was such an interesting topic."

Before he could reply, a young man that she vaguely recognized as one from the throng of suitors from her parlor earlier in the day approached.

"Miss Warrick?" he asked, hazel eyes hopeful.

"Yes?" she replied and tried to remember his name. Nigel? Nathan?

"Ned Stanhope," he supplied with a toothy grin. "I called on you earlier."

"I know that, Mr. Stanhope," Cassie replied with a weak smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping I might claim you for the next dance?"

Cassie's weak smile weakened. Cassie couldn't dance yet. Her health would not permit it. "I'm not dancing tonight, Mr. Stanhope, but perhaps another time?"

He looked like a puppy that had been smacked on the nose with a book, but nodded and departed, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

"So," Cassie said with a bright smile. "What do you do, Mr. Turner?"

"I'm a blacksmith," he said, somewhat self-consciously. Cassie hid her surprise. Elizabeth chose a blacksmith over the Commodore?

"Oh, really?" Cassie replied warmly, wanting Turner to be more at ease. "I can honestly say I know nothing about the trade. My parents probably thought it best not to let me play with swords."

"Will made the Commodore's sword," Elizabeth said.

"Did he really?" Cassie asked. Turner nodded shortly. "I'll have to keep an eye out for it. I have to admit, I wouldn't be able to tell you a good sword from bad."

"Well, really it's about the-" Turner began but stopped as another young mad approached.

It was another of her 'suitors'. This one was tall and brawny and if she remembered correctly, he rather liked the sound of his own voice.

"Miss Warrick," he boomed, causing Cassie to flinch and heads to turn in their direction. "I saw you from across the room and had to come speak to you."

"Did you?" she squeaked.

"Indeed, for you look positively lovely tonight," he remarked with a smug smile, as though what he had to say was dreadfully important.

"Um, thank you sir," she replied slowly.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, holding out a hand. She eyed it for a moment before looking back up at him. Even if she could dance, she wouldn't want to with him. He seemed a little too…large.

"I'm not dancing this evening," she replied. "Perhaps another time."

"I'll hold you to that, Miss Warrick," he rumbled before taking his leave, parting the crowd easily.

Cassie turned back to Turner, who looked slightly entertained, and Elizabeth, who looked a little sour.

"Swords," Cassie said. "We were talking about swords. Do continue Mr. Turner."

"Yes, well it's really all in the-"

"Miss Warrick?"

Cassie didn't groan out loud, but it was a close thing. Yet another young man had popped into the air at her elbow.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I called on you earlier," he said. "You look radiant this evening."

"Thank you," she replied. This one was short and had a slightly nasal voice that didn't compliment his small eyes and fish-like lips. "Is there something you require?"

"Are you free to dance the waltz, Miss Warrick?"

"I fear I am not," Cassie replied with an air of great regret.

"Oh," he said, though he didn't look deterred. "May I get you a glass of lemonade?"

Cassie held up her hand which was holding a glass that had gone slightly warm. "I already have one, but thank you all the same."

Seemingly unable to think of anything else to say, he bowed to her and left. Cassie gave Tuner an apologetic smile and gestured for him to continue, but he didn't even open his mouth. He looked over her shoulder and his amused expression grew.

"Miss Warrick?"

She turned her head sharply at the newest intruder and raised an eyebrow, very much at her wit's end. Immediately, she lost her irritation. This man was not as young as the rest, nor as loud if she remembered right. He had come to call on her earlier and had left a small bouquet of flowers (daisies, wasn't it?) and had left shortly after the wave of men clamored for her attention that morning.

He was a few inches taller than her and had dark brown hair and nearly-black eyes. Yes, she remembered him because those eyes had reminded her of her father.

"Lord Lindstrom, correct?" she replied.

"Indeed, Miss Warrick," he said with a soft smile. "I just wanted to say hello. I shall not bother you too much."

"Oh, you don't bother me, my lord," she said. "I'm just not used to so much attention."

His eyes warmed momentarily before they turned to Turner and Elizabeth. "Good evening Mr. Turner, Miss Swann."

Turner nodded and Elizabeth looked back and forth between her and Lindstrom very quickly.

"I was just about to take my leave," Lindstrom said to Cassie. "May I call on you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Cassie replied automatically.

"Until then," he said, bowing gracefully and leaving her side.

"I don't think we'll be talking about swords this evening, Miss Warrick," Turner said. "You are too popular."

"I'm sorry," she said with a deep sigh.

"The price of beauty," Elizabeth said and Cassie could sense a touch of rancor.

"Surely you had the same issue, Lizzy?" Cassie asked.

"Oh, yes," Elizabeth replied blandly.

Cassie decided it was time to take her leave. She said her farewells and moved over to her parents. With only a few words and giving her father pleading eyes, they left.

In the carriage on the way home, Cassie remained silent. Elizabeth was acting oddly, though for all Cassie knew that was how Elizabeth was. Cassie couldn't have been more than ten or eleven when they had last met. But she distinctly remembered her friend always in search of adventure, having an open heart, and thinking boys were stupid.

Now she seemed a little jealous, which was absurd. Surely she knew that Cassie would never set her eyes on her friend's fiancé? Mr. Turner was attractive, yes, but that was not a good enough reason to want to marry him. And why had she been so obviously irritated by the attention Cassie was receiving?

Surely she knew Cassie didn't want it…though how could she?

She and Cassie needed to have a nice, long conversation. Obviously there was a lot going on that Cassie didn't know about.


End file.
